


it isn't that much but it's a good start

by chahakyn



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Based on a Tumblr Post, Gen, No Incest, Pre-Canon, Pre-Season/Series 01, Relationship Study, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:13:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27727960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chahakyn/pseuds/chahakyn
Summary: “Are you stalking me?” Vanya says, managing to walk up to Diego in the first-aid aisle the fourth time she sees him, pill bottle clutched firmly between her fingers like a lifeline.Diego snorts, forgoing any greeting. “Believe me, Vanya, I have much better things to be doing than stalking you.”--5 times Vanya bumps into Diego on accident, and 1 time they meet on purpose.
Relationships: Diego Hargreeves & Vanya Hargreeves
Comments: 14
Kudos: 94





	it isn't that much but it's a good start

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [ this post](https://mychemicalxmen.tumblr.com/post/633744144488087552/i-dont-think-weve-fully-appreciated-the-fact) about vanya and diego and klaus living in the same city for years pre-s1 which i found funny enough to write about and go wildly beyond the basic premise of the post
> 
> fic title from [ Dirty](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iyonRIT9v10&ab_channel=grandson-Topic) by grandson

1\. 

Vanya isn’t really in the habit of regretting things. When your entire childhood is full of choices that were never yours, you learn pretty quickly that the choices you make afterwards, for better or for worse, are permanent. You have to live with the outcome. But at least it’s _yours_. So, yes, Vanya is very much not in the habit of regretting things. Agonizing over the potential or the consequences? Absolutely. But nothing so crippling as regret.

That changes on a fairly normal Thursday. She usually picks up her prescription refills on Sunday afternoons before grabbing groceries, but it’s been a stressful month, and she’s run out early.

She’s turning away from the counter, pill bottle in hand, when her eyes are immediately drawn to a figure walking between aisles. Vanya blinks, eyes widening.

Holy shit. Holy _shit_ , that’s _Diego_. Alive and in the flesh after 5 years, blood running down a cut on his cheek. It’s so similar to how she remembers seeing him as kids, covered in cuts and bruises after a mission. The only thing that’s missing is his domino mask—

Vanya stifles a surprised gasp as their eyes meet. He glances at her for only a moment, gaze sliding over and pausing before moving on to the shelf next to him. If she didn’t know him, she’d think he hadn’t recognized her. But she does know Diego, and he _definitely_ recognized her. She quickly turns on her heel, beelining for the bathroom and locking herself in.

 _Breathe, Vanya. Breathe_.

What had her therapist said? If you have a problem that feels too big to manage, break it down into manageable chunks of information. Bite-sized. Don’t let it overwhelm you. She can do that.

Her name is Vanya Hargreeves. She’s in a CVS, at 2 in the afternoon on a Thursday. One of her estranged brothers is outside shopping for God knows what. And she’s afraid to talk to him because…what? It’s awkward, it’s weird, he’ll make fun of her for buying pills? Vanya frowns. They aren’t at the Academy anymore. His opinion doesn’t have to matter as much as it did before. She has her own life, a job, and an apartment. She’s doing well, all things considered. What could he possibly say to her that would hurt? Okay, he could say a lot of things that would hurt. But still…

Vanya glances down at her phone. It’s been 5 minutes, plenty of time for him to have dispersed. And if not, there are worse things that could happen than running into Diego at CVS. Right?

She steps out of the bathroom before she can examine that question any further, breathing a sigh of relief as she scans the vicinity, now devoid of Diego Hargreeves. No more prescription refills on Thursday, and then she can put this whole mistake behind her.

But of course, things are never that easy. Vanya can’t put it all behind her because it happens again. And again. And _again_. On a Sunday, a Friday, a fucking _Tuesday_. It keeps happening and it’s driving her up the wall.

“Are you stalking me?” Vanya says, managing to walk up to Diego in the first-aid aisle the fourth time she sees him, pill bottle clutched firmly between her fingers like a lifeline.

Diego snorts, forgoing any greeting. “Believe me, Vanya, I have _much_ better things to be doing than stalking you.”

“So why do I keep seeing you?”

“Fate. Coincidence. Sheer bad luck.” Diego turns, looking her up and down. “Maybe you’re stalking me.”

“I am _not_ —”

“I really don’t care,” Diego says, cutting off Vanya’s indignant sputtering with a wave of his hand before turning back to look at the shelf. He picks up two boxes of butterfly bandages, tossing them gently in each hand. “Blue or green?”

Vanya blinks. “Uh…” She leans forward, gaze skimming the labels. “Blue?”

“Thanks.” He sets the blue box firmly back on the shelf, tucking the green box under his arm. “Hope I don’t see you around.”

“Same,” Vanya mutters, watching him saunter up to the counter. She can’t help but notice he’s limping, and idly wonders whether he’s taking care of himself before shoving the thought away. There’s no need to expend her energy worrying about her negligent siblings when she has plenty on her own plate to worry about. The pill bottle somehow feels heavier in her hands.

2\. 

Vanya can’t help but sigh when she sees a familiar figure in the supermarket Saturday evening. Of course it would be her luck that trying a new grocery store would equate bumping into Diego again. And this time, unfortunately, she has to stand her ground. Vanya does need food, after all.

She meanders throughout the aisles, placing her items in her basket while consulting her list. But despite her efforts in going slow, she somehow ends up next to Diego in the dairy aisle. Glancing to the side, her eyes widen as she takes him in.

“You’re getting blood all over the eggs,” she says slowly, watching as Diego hunches over the carton in his hands.

“I don’t need your input,” Diego hisses after a quick glare, bloody fingers slipping on another egg. “Or your help.” He just manages to catch the egg, growling under his breath in frustration. Vanya sighs, snatching the carton from him faster than Diego can react.

“Well, then pretend I’m doing this for me and not for you,” she mutters, thumbing through the eggs. She looks up, giving an exaggerated little frown. “Huh, these eggs are all good, if not a little bloody. But I’ve just remembered that I have enough eggs for the week in the fridge.” Vanya puts the carton down, giving Diego a pointed look. “I guess I’ll just leave these perfectly good eggs here for someone to grab.”

Diego snorts, picking up the carton and placing it gently in his basket. “I don’t remember you being so mouthy at the Academy.”

“That’s because you didn’t know me then. Though, I guess you don’t really know me now,” Vanya says mildly, turning to examine containers of yogurt.

“It’s not like you know me either,” Diego mutters, peering at the milk. He steps aside as someone reaches between them to snag a jug of oat milk from the shelf. And yet he doesn’t walk away, doesn’t take the chance of a stranger’s cover to disappear into the supermarket, away from Vanya. The person between them moves away and they’re still there, standing side-by-side while pointedly not looking at each other. And in that moment, somehow, Vanya’s closer to her brother than she ever has before. It’s a strange thing to feel. But their whole family has always been strange.

Vanya grabs a small container of peach yogurt, inexplicably placing it in her basket (she doesn’t even like yogurt) before turning to Diego.

“Take care yourself, yeah?” She glances pointedly at the cut on his shoulder. Diego scoffs.

“Don’t act like you care about me.”

“Okay,” she says simply, walking away. She can feel Diego’s eyes on her until she turns the corner.

3.

She knows it isn’t safe, but sometimes the only thing that can calm her down is a walk. The pills only do so much (anxiety? Nerves? She can never quite figure out what they’re for), and in the past month or so, she’s been taking an amount that even _she_ knows is unhealthy. So, the occasional nighttime stroll has had to substitute for the habitual motion of cracking open her pill bottle in wake of shaking hands and an even shakier heart.

Vanya tucks her hands deeper into her coat pockets, nose burrowing into her scarf as she regrets not bringing her handwarmers. Though, it shouldn’t really matter. With the weather being as cold as it is, 10 minutes or less outside usually does the trick, setting her head back on straight. And then she can go back to her apartment, safe in the knowledge that that trembling of her fingers is from the cold and not from something she doesn’t want to examine.

The sound of footsteps behind her sends a shot of adrenaline into her system, every sense jumping into hyper focus. Vanya quickens her pace, careful to keep in the light. She’s not an idiot; she knows how to act, living in the city. She fingers to mace in her pocket, thumb resting carefully against the trigger. The steps behind her speed up enough that Vanya knows there’s nothing left to do but run. And yet it’s not enough; she feels someone grab her wrist lightening fast.

“A little late for girls like you to be out, isn’t it?” An unfamiliar voice says, low and deep, and Vanya has to suppress the shiver of fear that runs down her spine.

“Please let go of me,” Vanya says hoarsely, cursing the tremble in her voice. The man must hear it because he only laughs, tugging her closer.

“Nah, I think I’d like to walk you home. It’s dangerous out at night, didn’t you know?”

Vanya whirls around, gritting her teeth as she whips out her can of pepper spray. The man catches her wrist easily, dodging the stream of mace before twisting her arm down. Vanya cries out, kicking out reflexively. She catches the man in the knee, hard enough to make him stumble with a shout. Taking the chance to run, she races away as fast as her legs can carry her, lungs straining.

She can hear pounding footsteps behind her. And then they stop, replaced with muffled grunts and the shuffling of feet. Vanya whips around, gaze catching on a familiar figure that’s tackled her assailant from behind. _Diego_.

She sprints up to the man, and in a burst of adrenaline-fueled courage, kicks him straight between the legs. The man shouts in pain, the distraction giving Diego enough time to overpower the man. They tussle briefly on the sidewalk, a mix of grunts and pained noises filling the air. Vanya catches a few glimpses of a knife in the mix as well, streetlamps illuminating the sharp metal. And then, the assailant falls limp to the ground, and Diego gets to his feet unsteadily, gaze instantly focusing on Vanya.

“The _hell_ are you doing out so late? You should know better,” he growls, doubling over with his hands on his knees as he breathes in, a rattling inhale. Vanya blinks, shaking her head as she steps forward.

“I had to get out, I was going crazy inside. I’m sorry—"

She reaches out, starting as Diego draws back with a growl. She can see the drip of blood on the sidewalk now, coming from where Diego’s arm grips at his side.

“You’re hurt,” she says dumbly, eyes wide.

“Yeah, that happens when my little sister is stupid enough to wander around at night and I have to save her,” Diego barks out, wincing as he straightens slowly.

“I could have handled it, I have pepper spray. And we’re the same age,” Vanya reminds him sharply.

“Keep telling yourself that.” He doesn’t bother clarifying what statement he’s referring to. Vanya shakes her head.

“Shut up and let me patch you up. It’s the least I can do—"

“No _thanks_ ,” Diego hisses, batting her hand away. “I don’t need your help.”

“Diego, I’m right down the street,” Vanya says, throwing her hands in the air. “Brightside Apartments on 37th, 205. It won’t take long to get there.”

He shakes his head, an unsteady exhale whistling through his teeth before turning away. “Not the distance I was worried about.”

“Oh.” Vanya deflates at that, watching sullenly as he limps out of the alleyway. “Well, if you ever need something, my apartment is open to you.” The offer almost surprises her as she hears it come out of her mouth. But it feels right; it really is the least she can do after what he did for her. Diego doesn’t respond, hand bracing against the alley wall as he begins to turn the corner.

“And, uh…Thank you. For saving me.”

Diego pauses at that, fingers tensing against the brick.

“Sure. Whatever.”

4.

“Holy _shit_!” Vanya yelps at the sight of Diego lounging casually in her apartment armchair, her hands bracing against the doorframe. “Jesus Christ, you scared me.”

Diego gives her a cocky smile and a one-armed shrug, the knife flipping through the air and landing in his palm never wavering in its rhythm. Vanya eyes him before glancing down at the door handle.

“I thought I locked this,” she says, jiggling it for emphasis.

“I picked it. You need better locks.”

“Good to know,” Vanya mutters, head jerking up at Diego’s hiss of pain. “You’re hurt?”

Diego gives her a grimace. “Could be worse.”

“Encouraging.” Vanya’s gaze skates over Diego, taking in the cuts on his chest and face and his slack shoulder before disappearing down the hall. She emerges with a first aid kit, kneeling swiftly next to him.

“Shirt off.”

Diego complies quickly, wincing as he tries to lift his left arm. “Can’t.”

“Do I have to pop it back in?”

Diego’s eyes widen in surprise at her, presumably for both her knowledge and willingness to do such a thing. But the pain must win over the shock, because he gives her a shaky enough nod that Vanya quickly fixes up his shoulder, wincing sympathetically at his shout of pain. She tries not to dwell on the familiar sounds and sensations of fixing popped joints and cleaning bloody wounds as she works, brows pinched in concentration.

“Why are you so good at this?” Diego breathes, gasping as she dabs rubbing alcohol on a smaller cut. Vanya exhales through her nose, tossing her hair out of her face.

“You think I didn’t learn how to patch people up at the Academy? Ben and Five always came back with more cuts and scrapes then they knew what to do with. I’m sure you were the same.”

“You never helped any of us after missions.”

Vanya shrugs, not looking up. “You never asked.”

Diego hums, letting the silence carry as she continues her tasks. It’s surprisingly comfortable silence, and Vanya can’t think of the last time she felt this comfortable in the extended presence of another person, much less one of her siblings. She blinks.

_Don’t think about Ben and Five, don’t think about them, don’t think about them—_

“All done, I think,” Vanya declares, giving Diego another onceover before gathering up scraps of bandages and discarded cotton pads. “You should get that stomach wound checked out. I did what I could, but it could give you more trouble if you aren’t careful.”

“I’ll be sure not to take your advice,” Diego says with as much bravado as he can, though it falls short as he leans heavily against the back of the armchair. Vanya snorts, shaking her head at that as she moves to the kitchen to wash her hands.

“Stay for dinner at least?”

“I got plans.”

Vanya turns around at that, raising a brow. “Those plans better be with your bed and some painkillers and not back out in the street.”

“Jesus, you’re just as bad as everyone else,” Diego says with a scoff, shaking his head. “No more crime-fighting tonight, _Mom_. Promise.”

“Good.” Vanya watches as Diego eases open the door. “Don’t be a stranger.”

He turns to look at her, tilting his head. “We’ll see.”

5.

Vanya startles at the familiar face reflected in the window of their local bookstore as Diego peers in at the books on display. _Her_ books, on display. She crosses the street, sidling up behind him hesitantly.

“I didn’t think you’d be interested in the book,” she says carefully. Diego whirls around, lips drawn back in a snarl.

“Oh, I’m _interested_. I’m interested in why you made us all such villains.”

Vanya’s eyes widen, shocked that he even read it.

“You read it?”

“’Course I fucking read it. Why’d you do it?”

“Because I wanted to?” Vanya takes in his furious expression with a roll of her eyes, the shock thrumming in her heart quickly sliding into defensive frustration. Her hand flicks out sharply as she speaks. “Sorry, I didn’t know you wanted some holistic, objective account of how great life was at the Academy and how you all saved the world every other day without me!” She pauses, gaze darting to the side as she remembers they’re in public before lowering her voice. “Well, newsflash Diego, it wasn’t _like_ that for me and I’m sorry for not accurately portraying all the grandeur—"

“What you wrote wasn’t what it was like at all,” Diego snaps with furious a jerk of his head. “You have no _idea_ what it was like—”

“And what, you thought I was interested in learning what it was _really_ like? You thought I’d want to come and run my book by you all so you could tell me what’s right and what’s wrong and say “Oh Vanya, you’re always fucking things up for us, just sit down and shut up like Dad always told you to and we’ll handle it the right way”? Fuck no!” Vanya throws her hands up in the air, whipping around and walking two steps away. She suddenly pivots on her heel, walking right back up to Diego before shoving her finger in his chest.

“This is _my_ book, Diego,” she hisses. “ _I_ wrote this, and _I_ get to tell my story how I want. I’m sorry it didn’t capture the Academy the way it was for you, but if you want to contest it, then write your own book.”

“You—really? Write my own book?” Diego barks out a laugh, swatting her hand away as he looms over her, his voice a low, angry hiss.

“My job isn’t to unload my traumas on the general public like you did. I’m not going to tell them how Dad locked me in a tank of water for hours and hours trying to push me to my limit until I thought I would drown, or how he would use Ben or Klaus as targets to motivate me to sharpen my aim, or how whenever my stutter comes back I have nightmares for weeks, remembering about how Dad would punish me for it. I wouldn’t do that because I deal with my problems myself and I’m not a fucking _coward_.”

Vanya staggers back at that, mouth cracked open as she exhales unsteadily. That’s…fucked up. If what Diego said is true—it is, it has to be, Diego isn’t kind, but he would never lie about that—then what she wrote was wrong. She was wrong and that’s _bad_. But then his last words hit her and she latches onto them with righteous fury. She’s a coward for writing a book that helped her deal with her own traumas? _She’s_ a coward for dealing with her pain in her own way?

“You think that I’m being stupid, don’t you?” Vanya stares at him, her gaze cold like ice. “You think that I didn’t get hurt the way you did and that I’m being stupid and irrational and cowardly for writing the book.” She steps forward, teeth grinding together as her jaw works. “How dare you try to tell me my pain isn’t valid because it wasn’t like yours? How dare you criticize how I choose to deal with my own pain? How _dare_ you?”

“I think you’re being stupid for dealing with your pain by disregarding ours. And oh, you’re mad about it? Why don’t you write another book?” He says with a grin full of fury, teeth sharp and white. Vanya shoves him back at that, so angry she swears she can see red.

“ _Fuck_ you. I hate you. I _hate_ you, Diego.”

“Feeling’s mutual,” Diego snaps, barely fazed at her physical display of anger. He turns on his heel and disappears down the street, leaving Vanya in front of the bookstore, shaking with fury and utterly alone.

+1

Vanya taps her finger nervously against her water glass, gaze skating over the menu without actually reading the listings. She’d managed to figure out where Diego lived and had called the gym’s number, asking Al to tell Diego to meet her for brunch today. She knows it’s a long shot; it’s more likely than not that he won’t show.

And she wouldn’t blame him, if he didn’t. She’s had a week to mull over what they said to each other in front of the bookshop, the words boiling and then simmering and then marinating in her mind. What he said had some merit to it. Some of it, at least. Vanya had no idea that things were as terrible for her siblings as Diego had said. She may have lived at the Academy, but she was barely more knowledgeable than the people that always crowed outside the gates.

And yeah, the point of her book wasn’t to give a well-rounded view of the Umbrella Academy. It was for her, and only for her. But still, knowing now that she stepped on her siblings’ trauma to tackle her own… It leaves a bit of a sour taste on her tongue now, every time she looks at the cover of her book in bookstore windows.

_Don’t regret it. You made the choice. What’s done is done._

Vanya’s eyes blink open as she inhales unsteadily.

Point being, she could understand if Diego didn’t accept her attempt at a peace offering. But a part of her hopes desperately that he’s willing to take another chance. Their family has always been like a bouquet of roses with the thorns intact; attractive but dangerous. No matter how you try to hold the bunch or the individual stems, no matter who you are, the attempts always draw blood, one way or another. They all know this and yet, Vanya still hopes that he sees that she’s reaching out anyway, in spite of the thorns. That he will maybe reach out in return despite how they seem to keep hurting each other again and again and again—

A familiar figure lands heavily in the seat across from Vanya, rattling the table’s silverware.

“I’m not here because I forgive you,” Diego says sharply, gaze a little wild as he looks at her.

“I…wouldn’t expect that,” Vanya responds carefully, folding her hands in her lap. Diego nods.

“Good.”

Vanya blinks at the silence, glancing down at her hands before looking back up at Diego. He’s still staring at her, menu untouched and gaze pinned on her like she’s a puzzle he’s trying to solve. But he looks uneasy, like he’s about to bolt at a moment’s notice. Vanya’s brow furrows before it hits her.

He wants her to extend the hand again, offer another chance at peace by starting the conversation in that direction. Not because he’s trying to make her grovel, but because he’s unsure of what to do in this situation. Well, newsflash: Vanya has no clue what she’s doing either. But she can try.

“Uh, why…why are you here then? If you aren’t here to forgive me.”

“Dunno.”

Vanya huffs out a breath at that, flicking her hair out of her face. Okay, then. One more shot.

“I thought about what you said,” she says carefully, and at that, Diego straightens in his seat. _Ah, there it is_. “And you were right. Partially. I didn’t know much about how your lives were. I just wrote what it seemed like to me.”

“And you got it fucking _wrong_ —"

“I wrote an autobiography, Diego, not an academic paper,” Vanya hisses, leaning forward. “I don’t need sources that aren’t my own memories. And it’s not like you have any idea what my life was like either.”

Diego shrugs. “I read the book. You were lonely.”

“You don’t get to say just that like it’s no big deal,” Vanya sputters, “when you grew up with siblings that were your friends, that you talked to and spent time with and could relate to. I had no one. You all made sure of that.”

Diego scoffs. “We didn’t—”

“You _did_ ,” Vanya interrupts with a glare. “You all pushed me away no matter how hard I tried. Until I stopped trying. You do not, and never _will_ , understand that, and that’s why I think it was horrible of you to judge me for how I dealt with it.”

“It’s—”

“You read the book. You should know. And if you think I’m overreacting or something, I _swear_ , Diego, I will walk out that door right now and we won’t ever speak again.” Vanya’s arm shoots out as she jabs her finger at the door. “I may be willing to temporarily set aside how I feel to reconcile with you, but you don’t get to take that as permission to disregard how I feel. _Ever_.”

Vanya watches Diego’s eyes widen as he takes her in, eyes ablaze and hands shaking with all the anger and frustration wrapped up in her small body. And then, something in his gaze changes. It’s not pity, and it’s not him shutting her out. It almost feels like the dawning sense of understanding clicking behind his eyes, in his mind. She’s his sister, and even if she was quiet and docile when Dad lorded over them all, that was years ago. She’s changed now, and she’s learned to fight for herself.

Diego nods slowly, gaze unwavering as he stares at her. “I’ll admit,” he starts, swallowing uncomfortably, “I don’t know how much we fucked you up, but that wasn’t right. We were kids.” At Vanya’s glare he holds up his hand. “But it wasn’t right. I knew this when we were younger. But the book confirmed it. We could have done better by you. Should’ve done better by you.”

Vanya’s shoulders sag as she slumps back in her seat. “Thanks.”

Diego shrugs, watching as Vanya idly picks at corner of his menu, laminate peeling back uncomfortably from paper. They’re at an impasse now, having both extended a tentative hand of goodwill and gotten burned as a result. Not that anything different should have happened; reconciliation is always painful. But they both reached out, and things haven’t completely disintegrated yet, so that’s a win at least.

Though, admitting fault took more out of Diego that he’s normally willing to give. Vanya can see it reflected in the tense set of his shoulders, the tightness of his jaw. In any other relationship, this would be the point where Vanya would reach out and close the gap, take on the burden of fixing the remainder of the bridge for both of them. Because she’s kind, because she’s a pushover, because she doesn’t like seeing people angry or sad. Call it what you like; she would have carried the weight and struggled to make up for whatever small imposition she made.

But this isn’t a normal relationship. This is her brother, and he’s just as much to blame as she is. She’s not carrying any of his weight for him. In fact—and she may be selfish for this—she wants to him carry more than his fair share. So, Vanya sits there, loosely crossing her arms over her chest as she looks up at Diego, mouth firmly closed. The ball is technically in her court. But maybe he’ll have a spare ball in her pocket that he’ll be willing to lob up over his head and serve to her. Maybe.

The moments of silence tick past, as slow as molasses until Diego tosses back his head and exhales in frustration.

“So? What do we do now? Congratulations,” he scoffs, “we both had fucked up lives as kids and now we’re fucked up adults. Do we just end it there? Accept that we’re messed up enough that it isn’t worth fixing?”

Vanya exhales slowly through her nose. A good serve. She’s willing to rally with this.

“I’d like to try and fix it maybe,” she says quietly. And she means it, she really does. “I’m tired of being lonely. And these past few months, seeing you was…good. It was nice to connect with someone who I don’t have to explain my past to. Connect with someone who just gets it.”

Diego nods carefully. “Yeah, that was nice.”

“I would like to make this work, Diego.” Vanya reaches out tentatively, letting her hand rest in the middle of the table, between them. “It won’t be easy, I think. But I’d like to try. If you would too.”

“Like anything in this family is ever _easy_ ,” Diego snorts, flippant tone at odds with the nervous twitch of his fingers as he reaches out. He rests his hand across from Vanya’s, just close enough that he can tap her pointer finger hesitantly with his. Vanya’s face breaks into a grin; she can hear him loud and clear. They may not be perfect and they may not be good siblings to each other, by any measure. But they’re going to try. And that’s all they can ever ask of each other, really.

Vanya lifts her hand, curling her fingers around Diego’s before squeezing gently. She knows that she has enough love in her heart to try. They’ll figure it all out, from there.

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on [ tumblr](https://shizuoi.tumblr.com/) if you want to chat!


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